


Waiting for the Sun to Rise

by burntcopper



Category: Excalibur (Comic), X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-29
Updated: 2012-04-29
Packaged: 2017-11-04 13:10:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/394239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burntcopper/pseuds/burntcopper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>See the title.  Then add Pete Wisdom's *perfectly natural* reaction about being forced to get up at this hour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting for the Sun to Rise

The sun's due to rise over the sea in this far-flung little island off the coast of Scotland. It's absolutely freezing, by the way. Muir is not a warm place. Which is precisely why Pete Wisdom is complaining bitterly, even though he's wrapped up with his nice warm girlfriend in a bloody great tartan blanket that they've nicked off've the evil Scots harridan that runs this place. The fact that said girlfriend is also not allowing him to smoke may also have something to do with it, along with other pertinent facts such as :

The girlfriend is a morning person, which Pete is not. Wisdoms, genetically, do not feel that they should encounter the world before 10am. Going by the reactions of people who've encountered them before that time, the general consensus is that the world agrees with the Wisdoms. Getting up to watch the sunrise at 4:30 am is not something his body can take, no matter how enthusiastic said girlfriend is about it.

The girlfriend has a pet dragon, which Pete is sure was put on this earth for the specific purpose of tormenting him. 'Purple flying anteater' is a much better description than 'cute', which he's heard the girlfriend use a few times in reference to it. Stealing of fags and clothes is an offence punishable by having lit fag-ends inserted up said dragon's arse. Along with a flat-iron and the worst of his dad's socks. He hasn't been able to catch the annoyance yet, but give him time.

Pete buries his nose in her hair, which smells of lemons. Not that god-awful fake lemon sherbert smell, but proper lemons, like the plant his sister used to grow, that bore about one lemon a year, if it was lucky. Just the shampoo-smell, but nice all the same. She shifts slightly, getting more comfortable. "What're you thinking about?"

"Lemons." He answers. The girlfriend, whose name happens to be Kitty, shifts round to face him, an amused look on her face.

"You're sniffing my hair again, aren't you?"

"Guilty as charged. 'S nice."

"Pete, have you had treatment for your shampoo fetish?"

"Nope. Can't be arsed." She flicks his nose, leans forward to kiss him. "Hoi, you're going to miss the light show."

"Saw it yesterday."

"Then why'd you bloody haul me out of bed for it today?"

Kitty grins. "Because, Wisdom, I like seeing you grumble."

"You're an evil woman."

"Guilty as charged." And he can't really be arsed to watch the sunrise anyway.

END


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